


Bad Influence

by SilenceoftheSolitude



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode Related, Episode: s06e19 The Changeling, F/M, Firemanverse, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceoftheSolitude/pseuds/SilenceoftheSolitude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But then he'd gone into work, and his team had been so protective and supportive of him that he thought he was going to explode and blow them all to smithereens with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Influence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalinysta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalinysta/gifts).



> To Kalinysta, the first person to ever comment my works. Hopefully this is a decent enough 'thank you' for being an awesome reader.
> 
> Minor swear word in there and a lot of subtext that is in no way as subtle as it's supposed to be.
> 
> I have no beta so all mistakes are my own. Any comment (positive or negative - especially if constructive criticism) is very much appreciated as it helps me improve.
> 
> Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. No copyright infringement intended.

**Bad Influence**

 

Jack guessed having his house crumbling to pieces was as good a start to his week as any other could have been. It did, however, feel somewhat ironic in his line of work; but he also knew that it had always been an option.  
  
Being the chief of a firehouse wasn't as easy as it looked on the outside. Technically his job consisted of paperwork, organizing drills and coordinate the efforts of his men as they dived into the flames, and even if he occasionally dived into the flames with them he actually was the one man in his command who could claim to be safe in the ruckus of a fire; however true that might be, it was also true that while his people's faces were visible in the papers as they rescued cats, old couples, kids, damsels in distress or whichever other cliché there was about firefighters, his was the name that got in the papers as he was the one that had to deal with interviews from annoying news reporters.  
  
Which explained why, whenever a crazed pyromaniac saw his work ruined by firefighters, he came after him - or whichever chief of whichever fire department had stopped their plans of reenacting the fires of hell.  
  
He sighed again, as he had done quite often since the accident had happened, as he realized that what was left of his house was soaked ashes. And now, on top of that, he'd have to wait until the police caught the psycho before it was safe to buy a new house.  
  
Life just sucked.  
  
But then he'd gone into work, and his team had been so protective and supportive of him that he thought he was going to explode and blow them all to smithereens with him. And that, had been the death of his plan to spend his nights in his firehouse quarters.  
  
He had contemplated asking for hospitality to Daniel, but then he'd reasoned that despite being friends, Daniel still remained a psychologist. And Jack didn't want to get psychoanalyzed about his house.  
  
Thank God he had a very understanding and sensible Captain to give him an out. Carter had truly been a Godsend in his command. Not only was she an amazing - and amazingly good-looking - executive officer, she also seemed to be the only sane member of his merry crew. She had offered to share her house with him until he could settle down again. And thanks to their diverging schedule they wouldn't really have to share the house but every other night.  
  
How much luckier could a guy get?  
  
Yeah, he admitted ruefully, at the time of the offer he had been too busy being grateful for the chance of spending some time in relative isolation and away from the prying eyes of his subordinates to remember that Carter's house - which he had visited probably a dozen of times tops in the six years they had known each other - only had one bedroom and it was hers.  
  
But, hey! He'd slept on couches before.  
  
Yeah, he grimaced, long before his knees had suffered their third - or was it fourth? He couldn't remember - operation.  
  
So it was that the first night he had been supposed to spend at her place had found them both receiving a phone call not long after he had pushed his duffel bag into her backseat. Sam had taken a rather dangerous U-turn and drove them back at the firehouse; the night had been spent in front of a nasty car-crash.  
  
The following night he had already been supposed to take the night-shift, so she drove home by herself while he spent his night working.  
  
"Third night's a charm?" He asked her.  
  
She snorted as she parked in her driveway, "one can only hope."  
  
She had already settled her things on the couch and gave him the room. He didn't need to be chivalrous with her; they both knew his knees weren't up to a night on a couch on which she barely fit herself.

 

* * *

  
  
A knock on the door startled him. Quickly he pulled the zipper of his pants close, “yeah?”  
  
“It’s me.” Not that he expected anyone else to knock on her bedroom door, but one could never be too careful.  
  
“Come on in.” He turned to face the door with all his body.  
  
She opened the door unsure as to what expect, thinking that he’d be snooping around her stuff – mostly. She definitely hadn’t expected to see him standing there, facing the door, barefooted, his hairs still wet from the shower he had taken, and just so… shirtless.  
  
“I can come back later if you want,” despite how much her voice was controlled she couldn’t help the blush rising on her cheeks.  
  
“Nah, it’s fine… what can I do for you?” He smirked slightly at her fluster and got closer, perfectly aware of the fact that it would make her blush even more. He knew her far too well.  
  
“I…” before she could start stammering like a teenager she composed herself, “I just needed a couple of things from my room.”  
  
“Oh, ok.” He wasn’t exactly sure what else he could have expected; it was her room after all. “If you need some privacy I can go wait somewhere else,” he waved his hand towards the open door behind her back.  
  
“No, it’s alright, you can stay.” She moved around him, heading for the bookshelf, when her eyes caught his duffel bag on the floor; he still hadn’t emptied it. “You know, I did empty a couple of drawers for you.”  
  
He followed her gaze to his bag, “that’s my way of telling you that there was no need to do that.” As if she hadn’t heard him she bent down and took some of his stuff into her hands, stood up and put it in the first empty drawer she found, “what…?”  
  
“This," she cut him off, "is my way of telling you I already did.” Ignoring his prolonged glare she bent down again restarting her work of arranging his things in her drawers.  
  
He watched her intently bending to reach for his clothes, boring deep holes in her back - he resolutely refused to admit he was staring at her perfectly round ass - with his stare. The determined look on her face was a challenge he was about to accept. Without giving away his intentions, he quickly moved behind her pinning her to the wardrobe.  
  
"Wait.” He said his hand on her forearm, “I want to wear that.” She turned around to face him, only managing to further increase their nearness – he was dangerously close. In an instant he lowered his head and put his mouth to her ear, “unless you want to further analyze the wonders of crunches.”  
  
His whispered innuendo made her turn a rather dark shade of red. She was left speechless at the memories of the time she had commented on his lack of injuries as 'a miracle' and his decision to interpret it as the compliment it hadn't been.

He had been in a particularly bad fire that time, and the explosion he had been trapped in had managed to pulverize his vest as well as to throw him down on his ass. She had been the first one to intervene of her team and had promptly checked him over for burns and had found none; cradling him in her arms she hadn't even realized she had spoken until he had answered, "just crunches, Carter."  
  
She had blushed as she had been caught staring at his toned abdomen and laughed at the same time as his concussed head hadn't stopped him from resorting to the worst kind of humor - the one that, somehow, always made her laugh.  
  
He smirked, content with his performance, in the same way he had smirked that day.  
  
At the sight of his self-satisfaction something inside her stirred – she couldn’t let him win that easily. She pushed the shirt on his chest and forced him back with her arm, “oh, don’t worry, I know all about crunches and their benefits.” She turned away from him swaying her hips as she moved.  
  
First, she decided to do what she had actually came into the room to do and went to the bookshelf to retrieve the books she had been looking for, tucking them under her arm.  
  
Then, with renewed intentions, she made her way to her wardrobe and took out a tank top while an oblivious Jack pulled his t-shirt on.

Once the piece of clothing was down his head she flaunted the way-too-small top in her hands before his eyes, “maybe tomorrow you’ll be lucky enough to see that for yourself.” Her sensual tone left no room for interpretation,  and all he could wonder was what else he may have the chance to see. “If you can keep up with me, old man.”  
  
She didn’t need to see his face to know she had won this battle of teasing, nor did she stay around to gloat too much; he could always come out with a retort, she was far too aware of the Chief’s ability to keep his cool in situations that would have any other man screaming for his life.  
  
As she closed the door behind her back, Jack finally released the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He cursed himself for being caught off-guard, and totally void of any quirky response. But, mostly, he cursed himself for having taught Carter to take life lightly, if it weren’t for his influence she would have never been so teasing.  
  
On second thoughts, he didn’t mind teasing-Carter at all. He smiled proudly at himself. Bad influence and all.


End file.
